


Summer nights

by orphan_account



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Affairs, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dark, F/M, Miscarriage, Prostitution, Smut, victor life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 14:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8211181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I know that he doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. I'm not a very likable person. But he knows he can't break me (like he fears he'll break Annie) and I can't break him (like his customers know they can) and what else is there in the world?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [T](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=T).



> Comments are the best thing ever.

Finnick Odair.

Red hair.

Blue eyes.

A silver shirt

A glass of champagne.

Scene: the presidental mansion. My victory tour. Me. Golden dress, golden tights, golden boots, golden girl. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark lips, dark thoughts. 

Suddenly, a dark smudge on his neck. Light eyes, light feet, city lights, light waltz. Beautiful, unethical. 

Two girls; one nameless, somewehere in a place only he knows how to love, one here, pinned against the matress. No love, no remorse, no PTSD.

Just Finnick Odair.

Red lips.

Heavy breathing.

Loopsided smile.

Narrow hips.

Clay.

Finnick Odair made me. He was my most valuable sponsor. How, you will ask?

Picure this.

A tribute from six. Skinny arms. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark thoughts, dead girl. Death breathing at her neck.

Finnick Odair.

Red hair.

Blue eyes.

Freckles.

Flashy grins.

Now, Finnick Odair is a lot of things. An alcoholic, a sociopath, a whore and a Capitol darling. He also has good memory.

Four years ago he stood where I stood. He hadn't anything but a pretty face. And he knows best that only two things can buy victory to a hopeless tribute: a pretty face, and a good scandal.

And if you're fifteen-years-old about to die and fucking Finnick Odair for free, it's quite a scandal.

He whispered into my ear that every once in a while he chooses a girl to sponsor. Sometimes a boy. It means that you get to fuck him and they write about it in the newspaper and then you win. Because that's how it goes. That's how he met his girl, he says. But shush, don't tell anyone. 

Quick, quick, these are the Capitolians. They're sheep. Seduce them.  
Quick, quick, this one is President Snow. He's a wolf. Pray that you don't get eaten.

And win I did. 

And I knew that if I embraced crucifixion, that's all I am: a Finnick in futute tense. I'll become just like him. Property of: everyone.

I  
will  
not  
bend.

I haven't seen him in six months. Ever since the night after I won and we fucked all night in the train back to six. I don't know why he's here now. It doesn't help that I started sniffing morphling. I'm restless now if I don't have any.

God help us.

Finnick Odair.

Scarred skin.

Red eyes.

Hot tears.

Quarter Quell.

I've been reaped again and Finnick can't help me now cause he's in here with me. I haven't seen him in four years. We're protecting two silly kids who think they're revolutionists, but Plutarch wants them alive for some reason. 

Finnick is looking after the girl, and I'm looking after the boy. It's easy to have him around my finger when wrapping boys around my finger is the only thing you've been dong for past three years and when you've been taught the art of seduction by Finnick Odair himself. 

And then all the hell breaks loose, and the next thing I know we're at thirteen and the Coin bitch is forcing us into battles. I want to take her eyes out – I'm not young enough for war. I never was. I sold my youth to Finnick five years ago. The Revolution has no mercy.

The revolution eats its children.

Katniss is a spark, yeah. But they can't see that that's all she is. She's not a fucking fire. We, all of the victors together, we're a constellation, yes. We deserve to burn. But we don't want to. We just want to sleep.

Finnick's girl is dead now, maybe.

I don't know if he feels broken

or free.

For good measure, we fuck again. Just a few times, to get an illusion of purpose while we train. I overdose with morphling and they almost don't let me fight, but then the Coin bitch forces me to go anyway.

Before we do, they bomb us. And then she makes me put on a dress and Finnick a suit and then we talk about whoring for Snow. I want to smash her head against the bunker walls and spill her brains on the stone ground. It's not like I haven't done that before.

Finnick's girl is alive after all. They get married the night before we go for the Capitol.

I don't know if he feels happy

or trapped.

Her name is Annie. I know she knows that I've been fucking Finnick for years now.

What she doesn't know is that I did it this morning, right after he put on his wedding suit. 

I know that he doesn't love me. He doesn't even like me. I'm not a very likable person. But he knows he can't break me (like he fears he'll break Annie) and I can't break him (like his customers know they can) and what else is there in the world?

It's like a collision of two slabs of marble. We're just cracking each other. Never shattering.

Oh God, it's too late for me.

Finnick Odair.

Lost his trident.

Mouth agape.

Blood on his hands.

He dies. The monsters smell like roses and he gives me one more desperate glance. It was too late for serendipity anyway. 

I know.

The monster snaps its jaws. Finnick's body, now short a head stumbles into the dust. I only know that I'm screaming, not why or when I started. Maybe I was always screaming, I just couldn't hear it.

When it's all over, Katniss Everdeen gives me a pitiful glance. I can see it now. She burns. Walks away from the hell she's created. Salute, madame.

The Coin bitch is dead. We may be witnessing the dawn of the new age. I'm free to sleep now, but I can't. He's always too close, close enough for me to feel his breath on my neck.

Finnick's girl is pregnant.

I've been pregnant too, they tell me, two months pregnant with Finnick Odair's child.

Been. In the past tense.

He stares at me through empty eye sockets in my reveries.

I've found it.

The life of a victor.

A golden life. A golden girl.


End file.
